


Leader of the Pack

by TellerQ



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellerQ/pseuds/TellerQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A songfic based on Leader of the Pack by The Shangri-Las. For Cati because she wanted it. I don't think it's sad enough or very IC but I tried so. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leader of the Pack

**Author's Note:**

> AU where papa Stilinski (and Danny) has been informed of the existence of werewolves.

_Is she really going out with him?_

Scott and Boyd stand in companionable silence, thinking. There’s a rumor going around their small pack and both boys, being closest to the two people involved respectively, are discussing its validity in private. They haven’t really talked, yet, though. They’ve mostly just stared off into space, each doubting the truth but intrigued by the possibility. Stiles enters the lunchroom chatting with Danny and both spot him immediately.

“You think it’s true?” Boyd asks, furrowing his brow as he watches Stiles and Danny sit at the usual table. Scott has a similar expression on his face as he watches his best friend, considering. The breeze from one of the many fans in the lunchroom (the AC’s busted in the _entire school_ ) blows Stiles’s scent right into his face and his eyebrows raise to his hairline. He’s absolutely _drenched_ in Derek’s scent. Scott looks his friend over and realizes his t-shirt’s different from the one he was wearing when Scott saw him earlier. It must be Derek’s.

_Well, there she is, let's ask her  
Betty, is that Jimmy's ring you're wearing? Uhm, hmm_

“Let’s go ask him,” Scott says as Stiles bites into an apple.

“Even though we already know,” Boyd replies, having smelled it as well, but follows Scott to the table. Boyd pulls a chair around and sits at the head of the table while Scott sits across from the other two.

“Hey,” Danny greets, smiling at their arrival and bumping fists with Boyd.

“Hey, Scott,” Stiles greets with a smile, and it only falters slightly when he glances over at Boyd. “And Boyd.” He glances back at Scott with the slightest questioning expression on his face. “What’s up?”

“We wanted to ask if you were dating Derek,” Boyd answers bluntly, and Scott gives him a look, throwing a hand up in an exasperated gesture. Stiles nearly chokes on a bite of his apple and coughs harshly. Danny raises his eyebrows and looks at Stiles. He must’ve heard the rumor as well by now. Was he still holding out hope for the alpha? Probably not. Stiles swallows and when he looks up, he’s blushing bright red.

“Maybe,” he answers, trying to deceive them and failing epicly. Scott and Danny rolls their eyes and Boyd smirks slightly. “Fine! Yes!” Stiles announces. “How did you know?”

“Lydia said she saw you too “together” but you confirmed it with that shirt,” Scott answers, and Stiles picks at the fabric.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“It reeks of Derek,” Boyd answers simply. Stiles blushes again and covers his face with his hands.

_Gee, it must be great riding with him  
Is he picking you up after school today? Uhm, umm_

Danny’s jealous look is missed by everyone but Stiles. Scott and Boyd share a look at the extra confirmation. Scott shrugs and shakes his head and Boyd smirks again. Stiles resumes eating his apple and tries to ignore Danny’s look. It’s probably not serious, not friendship-threatening serious, at least. At least Danny knows who Derek is now, and that’s he’s totally _not_ Stiles’s cousin.

“How come you didn’t tell me?” Scott asks in mock-accusation, though he can’t help his smile, so it really doesn’t work as intended.

“Derek wanted to keep it on the DL,” Stiles answers flippantly. He glances at his watch and then the lunchroom clock.

“What?” Boyd asks. “Ready for the day to be done? He picking you up from school today?” Stiles runs a hand through his short hair and nods. Boyd chuckles.

_By the way, where'd you meet him?  
I met him at the candy store  
He turned around and smiled at me  
You get the picture? Yes, we see  
That's when I fell for the leader of the pack_

A six year old Stiles enters a candy store alone. He may or may not have snuck away to get some Laffy Taffy. The store is bright and colorful, and there’re a few other kids inside. Stiles walks around, looking at all the different kinds of candy, not looking for Laffy Taffy anymore. There’re so many colors and flavors and shapes and sizes and Stiles can’t focus on a single kind for more than a second. His eyes are wide when he glances up at the ringing of the bell above the entrance.

A boy and an older girl walk in. They’re laughing at some shared joke and Stiles’s eyes pass right over the girl, barely taking in her features. They pause on the boy. Stiles doesn’t know why, but the sight of the boy makes him pause for a few seconds longer than anything else usually does. The boy must be at least twice Stiles’s age, probably a few years older. The two go behind a rack and Stiles loses sight of them, and then a neon purple wrapper catches his eye and he’s off again, exploring with his eyes, the other boy completely forgotten.

Maybe ten minutes pass and Stiles forces himself to focus. He blinks hard and and grabs some licorice, tossing it in a bag and moving towards the counter. The older girl he saw with the boy is already at the counter, and she’s staring off into the depths of the store.

“C’mon, Derek! Hurry up!” she calls, and only a second later the boy is by her side, panting slightly and throwing a few candies on the counter. Stiles stares for a moment, and then a huge lollipop behind the boy’s head catches his eye and he unconsciously moves towards it. He steps on the boy’s heel as he does, and the other turns around.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, stepping back again. The other boy smiles, and Stiles notices how green his eyes are.

“It’s okay,” the boy replies, turning back to the counter. Stiles continues to stare at the back of his head. He doesn’t know what it is about this boy but his mind has never felt so... calm before. It’s nice.

_My folks were always putting him down  
(Down, down)  
They said, he came from the wrong side of town  
(What you mean when you say that he came  
From the wrong side of town?)  
They told me, he was bad, but I knew he was sad  
That's why I fell for the leader of the pack_

“Dad, you’re being racist!” Stiles announces.

“No, I’m not,” his dad replies, voice close to calm but not quite there.

“Yeah, you are!” Stiles exclaims. “Name one reason- other than him being a werewolf- why you don’t like him.”

“He’s a murderer,” his dad answers quickly, probably having planned it. Stiles growls in frustration.

“Yeah, he killed the guy who murdered his sister. The guy was on his last breaths, anyway!” Stiles says. He grits his teeth before he can say anymore. There’s so much his dad doesn’t know, so much you could only know if you were there. The pain etched across his face, his bone deep sadness at the entire situation, and his bravery and wanting for revenge in equal parts that allowed him to end it.

“Listen to yourself, Stiles,” his dad says in an almost patronizing voice that makes Stiles want to rip his hair out. “You’re defending murder because of this man.” They stare at each other in a silent battle of wills for a few moments. “And that’s another reason. He’s a man and you’re still a boy, Stiles. Nothing more than holding hands is even _legal_ at your age.”

“So we’ll wait!” Stiles says, making it sound like he’s being honest even though he totally isn’t. “I know he’ll wait for me.” That’s true. If Stiles really wanted to wait, he knows Derek would. It’s kind of a moot point, though, because you can’t wait to do something if you’ve already done it. His dad opens his mouth to say something, but changes his mind and closes his mouth again, shaking his head.

_One day my dad said, "Find someone new"  
I had to tell my Jimmy, we're through  
(What you mean when you say that  
You better go find somebody new?)_

“I don’t want you seeing him anymore,” his dad says when he enters the kitchen. Stiles blinks and processes what was said. He’s tempted to just say ‘I don’t care’ but that wouldn’t end well. And, besides, he _does_ care.

“Why?” Stiles asks. “What changed the disapproval to this?”

“I came home early yesterday,” his dad answers calmly, and Stiles pales. His dad doesn’t even look up from his work as he says it- hasn’t looked up yet. Stiles remembers yesterday vividly. It’d been fun... and loud. _Shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT._ Stiles scrubs a hand through his hair and tries desperately to think of a way to explain this away. It can’t be over-it’d being going strong and steady for a solid amount of time and it was _good_. He doesn’t think he’s in love yet but it’s _really damn close_ and if Derek feels something even vaguely similar this would hurt him. Hopefully not as bad as it would hurt Stiles, but-

“No,” Stiles says firmly, even though he sure doesn’t feel confident right now. “He didn’t force me into anything. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“Doesn’t matter,” his dad says in the same tone. “You’re going to stop seeing him or there’s going to be consequences.” Normally, the threat really wouldn’t phase Stiles- he can get out of almost anything if talks long enough-but his dad’s expression is different. He’s tense and his eyes are pained and Stiles knows he shouldn’t push but he can’t help it.

“C’mon, dad,” Stiles says softly. His dad doesn’t look back up, and he only shakes his head slowly. “Dad!” His dad’s eyes snap up to meet his and he sees what he knew he’d see if he pushed it hard enough. The faint panic in his dad’s eyes. He thinks Stiles might ditch him, leave him and go away with Derek. It’s a valid concern, but Stiles knows he can’t. He would if he could, but he can’t so he won’t.

“Dad, please,” he begs. There has to be something he can do. Begging, grovelling, puppy-eyes, _something_. “I’ll do anything just please don’t make me-”

“No,” his dad says, cutting him off. He sounds so calm and relaxed and a spike of red hot anger hits Stiles and it’s like a volcano erupting and he can’t control it. His clenched fist slams into the fridge and it rocks into the wall behind it. His hand hurts like hell but that’s good because it’s at least a small distraction from _this_.

“It’s not that simple!” Stiles shouts, because it really, really isn’t. He needs more time, more time to work out how he feels and where it was going before it was cut off way before its time. His thoughts swirl around his head and all he knows is that he wants Derek. But he can’t have him now, can he?

“Find someone new,” his dad says with finality, though his eyes hold a small amount of pity. Stiles is tempted to go for the low-blow of ‘what would you have done if your dad had said that about mom?’ but he doesn’t. His dad is trying to do what’s best for him, but, like most parents, he’s way off base. Stiles deflates, then, going from standing like a soldier to looking every inch the hurt teen he is. He just looks at his dad for a moment, and he must look off because his dad’s expression changes and he starts to rise, but Stiles is out the door before he can round the kitchen table.

_He stood there and asked me why, all I could do was cry  
I'm sorry, I hurt you, the leader of the pack_

_He sort of smiled and kissed me good-bye  
The tears were beginnin' to show_

It was raining and dark and Stiles knows he should probably wait until tomorrow to have this conversation, but he already called Derek and he can see the man’s motorcycle pull up. The man himself looks concerned but not truly worried and his open expression that he only shows to Stiles makes the teen want to run. He wants to run and never stop running because if he stops he’ll have to face this again. Derek’s here now, though, and even if he did run his werewolf boyfriend would catch him. Stiles swallows thickly and rubs at his eye, realizing how easy and right the word sounded in his head and how much he’ll miss being able to use it.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks quietly, suddenly right in front of him. Stiles looks up at him and a few tears finally leak out. He ducks his head again. He hadn’t actually thought about how he was going to tell him. Like a bandaid, he figures.

“My dad said,” Stiles swallows thickly. “I can’t see you anymore.” Emotions flit across Derek’s face and Stiles only catches about half of them. Each one stabs at him because this is his fault. If he hadn’t told Derek his dad wouldn’t be home- _No, seriously, I know he’ll be gone for another few hours._ \- none of this wouldn’t be happening. The thought that he should be proud he kept Derek so distracted that he didn’t notice Stiles’s dad coming home with those heightened senses shoots through his mind and he’d laugh if he didn’t feel like someone had just punched him in the gut.

“We could leave,” Derek says finally, a faintly desperate look in his eye. The same thing Stiles knew he would suggest and wished he could take him up on. “We could take the part of the pack that has nothing left here. We could come back and visit anytime.”

“My dad would call it kidnapping,” Stiles replies with a pained chuckle. “And even if he didn’t, I don’t think my dad could handle it if I just up and left like this. I’m kinda all he has left. He doesn’t show it often but I know I was the thing that kept him afloat after mom died and he’s dependant on me, probably without even knowing. I’d planned on going to a college close by just so we could-” Derek smiled a little, and Stiles cut himself off at the sight of it. It was a kind smile, a tender one, one full of fondness. It made Stiles think that maybe Derek was more invested in this than he was.

“You’re too good, Stiles,” Derek says, and kisses him softly, gently, before Stiles could reply. The kiss is slow and it feels like it goes on forever, and Stiles really wishes it would. Derek pulls away, though, and leans his forehead against Stiles’s, their lips almost touching but not quite.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says quietly, and Derek smiles a little before he kisses him again, just as slow and just as long as the last one.

_As he drove away on that rainy night  
I begged him to go slow  
But whether he heard, I'll never know_

_Look out, look out  
Look out, look out_

_I felt so helpless, what could I do?_

Derek pulls away after a moment. He’s not smiling anymore, and he tilts his head up and blinks at the sky for a few moments. Even now- especially now- Derek Hale won’t let Stiles see him cry. Stiles resists the urge to lunge at him for all of five seconds, and then he’s clinging to Derek, arms wrapped tightly around his waist and face buried into the crook of his neck. Derek hugs him back with hesitation, holding him too tight, but Stiles doesn’t care. They stand like that for a long time, and when they finally, reluctantly release each other, the temperature has dropped and there’s sleet on the roads. The rainstorm has turned into a thunderstorm.

“You have my number,” Derek says. “If you change his mind, call me.” There’s a bit of bitter humor in his words, because Derek knows Stiles’s dad, if only vaguely. They both know that won’t happen.

“Yeah,” Stiles says anyway, the corners of his lips quirking up in the best smile he can manage. Derek turns, then, and makes his way to his motorcycle. Just as he’s about to peel away, Stiles shouts, “Go slow!” half-pleading, half-ordering. He’s not sure if Derek hears, though. The engine’s loud and Derek has this habit of revving the engine a lot when he’s upset. He watches Derek until he can’t see him anymore and then sits down against a nearby tree. Let his dad find him in the morning and maybe feel a bit of guilt. It’d serve him right, Stiles thinks.

_Rememberin' all the things we'd been through_

All he can think about is Derek. What else would he think about? It hurts- it fucking _hurts_ \- but Stiles is sure that it’d hurt more to try and ignore it. To not think about it. That’d feel like a betrayal, somehow. So, that’s all he thinks about. He relives all the memories he has of Derek. Stiles has a damn good memory so this plan is working out well so far- if anything can be considered ‘well’ right now.

//”Can’t you trust me just this once?” “No!”//

//The way their eyes always seemed to connect when they were in the same room, even before they were together.//

//How, even ten years later, those eyes still make his brain stop like nothing else ever has.//

//How majorly awkward their first date was until Derek said ‘fuck it’ halfway through and kissed Stiles in the middle of the meal.//

//Erica eyes a shirtless Stiles and Derek wraps a possessive arm around his waist.// 

//”This means you’re the mom, oh my god!” Allison says, giggling behind her hand. Derek smirking at him from across the room, endlessly amused.//

//Derek legitimately asking him to a movie just to make-out the whole time.//

//Derek asking him to another movie and this time giving him and handjob and Stiles never accepting another movie invitation ever again.//

//Stiles taking the bullet that would’ve killed Derek for him and then entire pack having to hold back an enraged alpha with three bullets in his leg to keep him from killing Allison’s bastard of a grandfather.//

//Derek bringing him flowers and a cheeseburger in the hospital and Stiles laughing his ass off.//

//”Jesus Christ, Stiles. Fuck!” “That’s the plan.” “Then shut up and get to it.” “Yessir Mr. Alpha, sir.” And the painful but not-too-deep scratches that resulted.//

//”You’re so cute together!” Lydia teasing. Derek growling. Stiles’s, “I know, aren’t we just?”//

//Derek falling asleep with his head in his lap as Stiles gently combs his fingers through Derek’s hair.//

Most of their bad moments seem more funny than anything in hindsight. Stiles doesn’t think that’s fair. Maybe if they hadn’t been so damn happy together this would hurt less. Maybe if they had some really awful fights or horrible misunderstandings, _any_ bad memories, the pain would ebb and flow like pain is supposed to instead of this fucking hurricane he has to deal with.

It’s horrible, how happy they were, because it’ll never be that way again. There’s no hope of Stiles growing up and going to college and finally getting Derek to himself again. There’s no hope of seeing another pack meeting where Derek would try to look imposing until Stiles got the ticklish spot in his side and his poker face crumbled. There’s no hope, no possibility of anymore slow kisses or tender touches or possessive holds or rough sex or ‘you’re still alive’ sex because _he isn’t still alive_ and it hurts so much and-

“Shit,” Stiles mutters into his bed, curled into a ball and trying not to cry even though he knows it’s pointless.

_At school they all stop and stare  
I can't hide the tears but I don't care_

No one outside the pack knows why the usually bubbly, hyper Stiles is so utterly depressed it radiates from him, but they try to guess. No one asks him outright, and he doesn’t really pay attention to gossip, but he sees them staring and whispering. One day tears trickle down his cheeks when he finds an old note of Derek’s in his locker. It’s nothing special, just ‘meet me behind the school at lunch’. Those notes usually lead to long make-out sessions or the occasional blowjob if Derek could convince him. Stiles puts the note back where it was and wipes his face.

_I'll never forget him, the leader of the pack_

The funeral is quick. There’s not a priest because Derek didn’t believe. No one says any extra words because none are needed- everyone already knows. They all go only to pay their silent respect and get a bit of closure. The pack filters out slowly, leaving in pairs or groups of three, never alone. As Scott leaves, he puts a hand on Stiles’s shoulder, and the teen nods. Scott nods back and leaves with softly-crying Allison tucked into his side. When everyone’s gone, Stiles walks up to the coffin and kneels right in front of it, knees brushing the polished wood. He lays a hand on the lid and bows his head, tears streaming down his cheeks, but not a sound coming out of him.

He stays until there are no more tears, and no more light, he notices when he becomes aware of his surroundings again. He stands slowly and the pain in his legs is intense, but he walks all the way to his destination anyways. It’s not as far as it could’ve been, and it only takes him twenty minutes to walk up to the remade Hale house. He figures he’ll sleep in Derek’s bed. Just for one more night.

When he enters the house, it’s not silent like he expected. He moves towards the voice and into the family room, where he finds the entire pack all in their usual spots. The one talking- Jackson- pauses for only a moment before he resumes his story seamlessly. Stiles takes his usual seat silently and stares at the only one left open, the armchair in the corner- Derek’s chair. He doesn’t take his eyes away from the chair, but he tunes into the story and he’s soon lost in the voices of his family. They know how he feels. They understand. They know him so well that they all came here and waited for him. They care.

Derek would be proud.

_(Gone, gone, gone, gone)  
The leader of the pack, now he's gone  
(Gone)  
The leader of the pack, now he's gone  
(Gone, gone, gone, gone)  
The leader of the pack, now he's gone  
(Gone)  
The leader of the pack_


End file.
